Trodden Path
by Delle Reed
Summary: [drabble collection] A rendition of Kenshin's 'wandering years' told through a series of drabbles, ficlets, and shorts. Ongoing.
1. Sustenance

_I hate writing author's notes for drabbles, but had to do a quick intro on this new stuff, y'know? This is a collection of drabbles, ficlets, and shorts that theoretically take place during Kenshin's wandering years. (One of those fill-in-the-gap kind of things, but drabble style, and not really in any particular order...) I'll update with new ones as I think of them. :) Some of these will be continuous, but for the most part, each chapter will stand alone and won't necessarily build on the drabbles before it (unless I change my mind)._

_Any concrit would be greatly appreciated.  
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_Finally got around to reposting these! XD Thanks for reading!  
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__Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license._

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_**Trodden Path**  
Rurouni Kenshin  
by D. Reed

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**Sustenance **

One step at a time – he spent his dwindling energy on putting one foot in front of the other. Hands shook, breath steamed in front of him as he fought exhaustion.

He'd eventually have to eat, if he could find a job at the next village.

Wandering had its perks, and its drawbacks. Starving to death wasn't something he necessarily enjoyed these days, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made to keep his vow.

For her, anything was worth it.

Light ahead notified him of an upcoming village. As relief flooded him, he hardly heard the concerned voice before collapsing.

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_100 words._


	2. Haunted

_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license._

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**Trodden Path**  
Rurouni Kenshin  
by D. Reed

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**Haunted**

There were times when his cold stare and quick sword stance would scare trouble away, and there were times when he came across stubborn foe.

This one was stubborn.

Kenshin hadn't run across many actual fights in quite some time, but his master's training made sure he wouldn't lose his stride with some time off.

_Hopefully._

The opponent took an all-too-familiar stance; Kenshin's heart sank. He recognized the stance from the Bakumatsu – many Shinsengumi members used it. Perhaps this man was ex-Shinsen?

If the man was Shinsengumi, his identity as Battousai would be revealed.

_This is bad_…

"You should leave," the man hissed. "Your hands are stained."

Kenshin hid his flinch well, but the comment still stung fresh scars. "If I leave, will you promise to quit picking on innocents?"

The man paused; Kenshin didn't miss the flicker of shock in his gaze. "Very well," he replied. "Even devils can be agreeable at times, eh?"

Kenshin bowed his head lightly, relaxing his stance. "I left that life some time ago." Carefully-chosen words.

The man bowed his head in reply. "Then we both made deals with the devil. Take care."

The rurouni left, hoping for better luck at the next village.

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_200 words._  



	3. Sustenance II

_This is the second part of 'Sustenance'. It's a bit longer, not quite what I'd hoped it to be, but eh. I'll come out with more drabbles that are hopefully better than this one. At least I'm having fun with this project! XD_

_I'll eventually have another follow-up to this one, when I get a chance to write it. Blegh. _

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Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license._

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Trodden Path**  
Rurouni Kenshin  
by D. Reed

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**Sustenance II**

Words came first, then pain. Stomachache.

"You're a fool, Takeshi. This man… he's a devil!"

"Oh hush, the poor boy's half-starved. He won't be killing anyone any time soon, at least not with that blunt sword he's carrying."

"Sakabatou," he heard his own voice croak. Twin _ki_ jumped, flaring.

Eyelids slowly opened, painfully allowing light through as he adjusted to his surroundings. 'Takeshi' and his companion were nearby. There was a wet cloth on his forehead.

"Sakaba…tou?" Takeshi repeated.

Kenshin nodded slightly. "Reversed blade. Makes it harder to kill people with it."

A chuckle. "So, young man, what is your name?"

He hesitated, enough to cause a frown from Takeshi's companion. "Rurouni. I'm simply a wanderer, is all."

"Rurouni…" Takeshi glared sideways as his companion stalked out. "Well, Rurouni, I hope you like onigiri – my wife made extra. You look hungry."

Kenshin wryly half-smiled, stomach growling, thankful for rare kindness.

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_150 words._  



	4. Tranquility

_Bah, I don't like this one that much. I liked the idea, but it just didn't seem to write itself the way I wanted it to. XP_

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_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license._

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_**Trodden Path**  
Rurouni Kenshin  
by D. Reed

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**Tranquility**

Birds chirped, summer insects hummed, breeze lightly rustled the leaves – otherwise, he walked in silence, a single knapsack tossed over his shoulder. The rectangular bandage on the side of his face made it itch, but he didn't dare remove it. _Not yet._

The peaceful tranquility seemed eerily _too_ quiet, by the hitokiri's standards.

But by the Rurouni's standards, the surroundings were quite pleasant.

It had taken some time to get used to the single sword at his waist, to the liberty from fighting. Three months, and he still hardly fit the persona of a vagabond.

_Peace will come_, she whispered.

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_100 words._


	5. Winter

_This one took a much different turn than I'd originally planned it to. Ah, well, here's to angst!_

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_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license._

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Trodden Path**  
Rurouni Kenshin  
by D. Reed

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**Winter**

Ice, cold, snow, death. Always death, shrouded in blinding white snow contrasted sharply with a deep crimson smattering across its pristine surface.

At least, that's always how his dreams went, especially when he was chilled to the bone.

He really hated sleeping outside during the winter, where it was coldest. But this time, no village was in sight; he only had a small shelter made from fallen tree branches to protect his rag-clothed body from the chilling wind. Another night for semi-sour recollection.

He almost didn't sleep this time, but his body was weary. Eyes closed; he smelled haku baikou and coppery blood. He could only hope that she would greet him this time with a kindness that he didn't deserve.

Bitter cold, these memories.

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_125 words._


	6. Scars

_I don't know whether this could be called a drabble, or if it's a one-shot. It's almost too long for a drabble, but too short to be a one-shot…Drabble-shot? (That almost sounds like an alcoholic beverage of some sort. XD)_

_Anyway, whatever this is, here it is. For the record, I was in a horrid mood and listening to Papa Roach's "Scars" while writing this. (Explains the cliché title, at least.)_

_Don't hesitate to tell me if this one sucks – I haven't had any of this stuff beta read.

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Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license._

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Trodden Path**  
Rurouni Kenshin  
by D. Reed

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**Scars**

The last person he'd shared his past with had died for it. Kenshin wasn't about to let that happen again, not if he could control it. After all, he was cursed for his crimes. This self-inflicted curse shouldn't have to hurt anyone else.

But this time, it was a little difficult to keep his troubled past behind him; he hadn't exactly been coherent when he'd shouted _her _name over and over. The young farmer and his wife who cared for him during his roughest hours deserved at least an explanation in exchange for their kindness, although he really didn't want to tell them.

When he'd promised to protect the villagers from a band of vicious thieves who had terrorized the region for a while, he hadn't expected talent. The new Meiji government hadn't organized law enforcement well enough yet in these rural areas, so a ragtag gang wasn't uncommon.

This particular group, however, were hardly simple ruffians. He had been a fool to underestimate them, even after he'd sensed their strong _ki_. Ex-Shinsengumi were the last people he thought he'd meet in the middle of nowhere.

And – he quickly realized – nearly two years without decent training or opponents really took its toll on his technique. He lacked a certain awareness, an edgy crispness that offered the Hiten Mitsurugi style such grace… and brutal accuracy.

In short, although he clearly beat the bandits, he was hardly left unscathed. Shortly after reassuring the village leader that they'd been taken care of by proper authorities, he'd collapsed.

The blood loss caused the high fever, he was told later. He was lucky the fever hadn't killed him.

But now he owed the couple a reason why he was so disturbed in his sleep, and why he hid the x-shaped mark under a rectangular bandage. Why he was so jumpy and frighteningly cold during his delirium. Why his small body was littered with brutal scars unrelated to the most recent scuffle.

Why he had called _her _name so often in his sleep.

And so Kenshin told them. After a while, it began to hurt – both in his body and in the vacant pit in his chest. He hadn't wanted to be a killer. She shouldn't have died. They offered him sympathetic gestures and stares. He felt too humiliated to let the stinging tears overflow, too open, bare, and raw.

A week passed, and his wounds turned into more puckered white records of his life. He thanked the couple for their hospitality before he left, apologized for his burden, told them to take care of themselves. They bowed in gratitude for his aid, told him they were more than pleased to be of service and that he should visit any time he was nearby. He nodded, though he knew they'd probably forget about him by the time he circled back by this stretch of road.

As he stiffly made his way from the village, he grimly noted that his scars – though steadily healing – were still tender.

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_500 words._


	7. Breathe

_I wrote this during a short break in about 5 minutes... Not too pleased with it, but eh, it's something. XD Was listening to "Breathe In" by Frou Frou while writing this one._

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_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license._

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**Trodden Path**  
Rurouni Kenshin  
by D. Reed

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**Breathe**

At night, the air cooled to more tolerable levels. The crisp relief from the summer day's heat helped take the dazed fog from his mind, and finally his sweat-soaked clothing could dry. And he wasn't taking lungfulls of muggy oxygen.

Sleeping outside was best in this weather, he determined. He'd almost broken himself of the habit of sleeping upright, sword propped from lap to shoulder in case of danger. Not that he should be too worried on this road, but just in case.

Finding a comfortable tree trunk to lean against, he plopped down at its base with a contented sigh and brushed wayward damp bangs from his forehead. Fireflies had just started to peer into the evening, and he stared – mesmerized – for several moments. Breathing deeply, he finally allowed himself a small smile in grateful reflection.

Perhaps Tomoe would allow him to take a night of relaxation from atonement.

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_150 words._


	8. The Village Idiot

_Popped this one out even faster than the last one, and I'm even less pleased. :( But it's something, right?

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Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license._

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**Trodden Path**  
Rurouni Kenshin  
by D. Reed 

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**The Village Idiot**

"It's the Battousai! Get him!"

Such a common and cliché greeting, he decided – especially after hearing it many times over his six years of wandering. And after six years, he had learned a valuable technique; a useful method of evasion that his master never could have taught him.

"Oro?"

Playing the role of a fool. Kenshin found that this routine had been the most effective means of chasing off anyone who had the guts to challenge him. Years of dangerous scuffles and nearly broken vows had worn at him, and so he sacrificed his dignity for the sake of peace. Pretend to be an airhead, fumble with the sakabatou, fall over. The well-practiced routine was foolproof, as long as a real threat was non-existent.

"_Look at me – see? I can't really use the sword. I'm just a wanderer. I don't have a care in the world," _said his actions. _"I'm harmless, I promise."_

But he couldn't shake the bloody ghosts in tow – they told him otherwise as they reached for him with bony dead hands behind closed eyelids. _You can't fool us, _they said. _We know who you are._

Even if his act worked on others, he couldn't fool himself.

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_200 words._  



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